𝐬𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐞 → 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬 (𝐢𝐢)

twenty-one [t]

friday,
may 17th, 2020

TRINITY HAYSON

We're closer now.

My heart's racing, and as much as I want to maintain my strong composure and embrace my thickened skin and confidence, I think that's quite impossible when his fingers are drumming a silent beat on my waist.

I've bent my leg up for comfort and his hand is sitting on my thigh, my fingers threaded through his. His arm is wrapped around me and his other hand is holding me close by my waist. As I said, he's tapping a pattern on my waist and it's somehow soothing, even though I can't hear it. It feels nice. My head is nestled under his arm and I can't help but think that maybe this is too intimate, too soon.

The sensible side of me wants to stop myself from inhaling his lovely scent and revelling in the feeling of his arm tangled around me, but the side of me that is completely and utterly fucked for Shawn Mendes wants otherwise. It's tough, really. I want to show him that I won't always melt at his touch and he doesn't have me wrapped around his finger, but every time I look at those honey-glazed eyes, my heart surges.

"I go home Sunday," Shawn hums lowly as we watch the moon emerge from the horizon.

I frown, staring out at the dusky sky, "Oh. Well, that's nice. Are you going to see your family?"

"'Course," he replies, "Can't seem to go very long without them these days." His cheek falls gently atop my head and I swear I hear him take a deep breath, assumedly sniffing my coconut scented shampoo that I washed my hair with earlier.

"You're travelling more often. Maybe that's why," I guess.

That's very true. Well, I suppose. Being a pop sensation mustn't be easy. Surely he's not constantly having lazy days and binging TV shows. Come to think of it, since he arrived I've forgotten about his fame. About The Shawn Mendes. To me, he's still — and probably always will be — Shawn. Just Shawn. My ex-roommate, my ex-lover. He hasn't brought up his crazy career yet so I haven't had the chance to really ponder it. I'd like to hear about it though. From what I've seen from his interviews that are occasionally playing on my TV channels, he adores his job. I can't wait until I tell him that I'm so fucking insanely proud of him and what he's become, but my plan most definitely is not to fall at his feet right away. He knows he's talented, so my praise can wait. It'll come, just later.

"Mm," Shawn murmurs, "I love travelling. But fuck, I miss them so much sometimes. All the time, actually."

"How are they?" I question, feeling a sudden wave of reminiscence wash over me. I think of the time we visited them at Shawn's grandfather's lake house. We had such a great time there. I confessed my love for him there.

"They're really good," he answers, "Scott's engaged."

"Woah, seriously?" I perk up, glancing up at the curled stunner beside me, "Is she good to him?"

He nods, "She's lovely. He really adores her... My mum said she's really happy that I'm meeting with you again."

I smile giddily, "You told her?"

"Of course," Shawn nonchalantly replies.

I don't respond, once again cuddling into him and gazing at the emerging stars. My heart skips a beat at the thought of Shawn talking to his mum about me. I shake my head gently, grinning down at our entwined hands.

"Is it worth it?" I ask after a while, tilting my head to look up at him. He peels his gaze from the moonrise to stare down at me with a questioning look. "The touring. Missing home and stuff..."